Chapter 513: Chapter 261: Sssss!
It is also the origin of the name "Grey Valley". In the southwest direction of the village, if you wander in the forest for half a day, you can see a barren small valley with many gray rocks.
A merchant who once got lost passed by this place, discovered a business opportunity, and wanted to develop it into a stone quarry.
If successful, as the only human settlement nearby, it would undoubtedly provide a substantial income and job opportunities for the people in the village.
If a mineral deposit was discovered, "Grey Valley Village" could potentially become "Grey Valley Town" or even "Grey Valley City".
Unfortunately, on the third day of the merchant leading experts and guards to survey the valley and plan development,
a group of strong and cunning demons residing deep in the valley attacked their camp.
The merchant died in this attack.
And the "quarry plan," which was intended to lift "Grey Valley Village" out of poverty, naturally remained unfinished, becoming a story the village elders would reminisce about at the village entrance.
Tom had heard about this event countless times from his father, even on the night before his father passed away. That gray-haired, wrinkle-faced old man still clutched Tom’s hand, lamenting that if the merchant hadn’t died, their current life might be very different.
Tom didn’t think it was because the old man had any sense of honor or belonging to the village, nor did he, like those benevolent priests in the church, wish for the villagers to have a good life.
The reason for his obsession was merely that when the merchant came to the village to hire a guide, he patted the then-young father on the shoulder, praising his robust physique as an ideal candidate for stone transportation when the quarry became operational.
A man who had spent his life wielding a hoe in the fields, raised amidst sweat and responsibility, has only ever received the highest praise in the form of his wife’s words, "This year’s harvest isn’t bad; we should be able to make it through the winter." How could he possibly handle this?
That night, when he returned home, he broke his usual silent demeanor, and at the dining table, with his mother and the then-young Tom, he fantasized about the better days to come.
The long-leaking roof might finally get repaired, a bit more salt might be sprinkled when cooking, they could have two meals with meat on regular days, and perhaps even add a calf to the family.
Tom had to admit, he also fantasized about the meat his father talked about back then.
But even until now, the honest man who tried to improve his family’s life through hard labor had passed away for many years. Tom had his own family, a pair of children, and sat in the position of "father" he once had. Yet, those childhood fantasies and expectations for the future remained unrealized.
"Tom, stay alert, don’t fall asleep!"
A sudden low voice by his ear made Tom shiver twice in fright. His previous drowsy, nearly asleep state instantly faded away.
"Got it, got it!"
Nodding vigorously, he assured the middle-aged man beside him, referred to as "Uncle Mike".
Tom didn’t have much to complain about.
He clearly understood that as the only labor force in the family, Uncle Mike, like him, worked hard all day in the fields under the daytime sun.
At this time of night, when they should be asleep, they were both equally exhausted.
Now, they were just relying on their mental strength to stay awake.
"Just hold on a bit longer." The middle-aged man beside him, with bloodshot, dull eyes, slightly comforted the younger Tom,
"In two or three hours, Andrew and the others should come to take over."
Tom didn’t respond; he just took a deep breath, absorbing the scent of straw and faint body odor into his nostrils, tightened his grip on the grass fork, and nodded firmly.
The time had reached deep into the night, yet the two who had spent their lives doing farm work hadn’t gone to bed early like they usually would to gain energy for the next day.
Instead, they lay prone on the straw bales, using their eyes and ears to keep watch for any imminent dangers for the villagers of Grey Valley.
The reason...
A week ago, Henry’s mother, the kind-looking old lady, was attacked by an unknown beast while collecting firewood in the forest near the village.
Farmers who heard her screams rushed to the scene, only to find the old lady’s blood, torn pieces of clothing, and countless small footprints in the mud, resembling those of human children.
It didn’t even require the village’s few respectable and knowledgeable elders to identify these clearly indicative marks before the farmers confirmed the identity of the so-called "unknown beast":
——Goblins!
A group of more than ten goblins!
For those large cities with towering walls, or even small towns with sheriffs and guards, dealing with just ten goblins might not be more troublesome than cleaning rats out of a sewer.
But for the villagers of Grey Valley, this was a dangerous enemy they had to approach cautiously and fight with all their strength.
Thanks to the widespread presence of these brutal yet tenacious weak demons across the continent, even the most foolish and illiterate rural farmers knew about the dangers posed by these green-skinned bastards.
They regarded humans as the prime targets on their prey list and dared to attack any solitary human or anyone they could handle, regardless of gender.
And if caught by these beasts, it’s merciful to just die, being reduced to nothing more than a meal, but if you’re captured alive and taken to their lair, it becomes an inhumane torture even the cruelest inquisitors can’t bear to witness.
Henry’s mother’s disappearance was just the beginning.
Having discovered Grey Valley Village, the goblins acted like piranhas smelling blood. They would observe and wait, and anyone venturing beyond the protection of sunlight and walls into the forest couldn’t escape their greedy eyes.
And if their numbers were adequate, giving these green-skinned rats enough courage,
they would no doubt screech and swarm into the village, smashing every living thing in their sights and dragging them back to their filthy, damp nests.
The villagers of Grey Valley wouldn’t sit idly by.
Having dwelled in this remote area for generations, they frequently encountered green-skinned rats.
They had long since developed comprehensive defensive strategies against the goblins.
Ditches, thorny fences, traps... every setup had been checked repeatedly the past few days.
Every night, they also took turns assigning villagers to keep watch.
Tom and Mike were the ones responsible for the first half of tonight’s watch.
"Damn it, these goblins are more troublesome than the weeds in the fields. No matter how many of them are killed off, they pop up again from who knows where, just like they sprout from the ground at regular intervals."
Tom, who had been married for years and was no longer young, naturally had some experience in fighting goblins.
Two years ago, he even accompanied the village’s main force and stabbed one to death with a grass fork.
Now, complaining along with a hint of doubt:
"But these wretches, when there are only two or three of them, are so timid that if they lack weapons, they couldn’t even defeat a big goose. Do they really dare to attack a village this big?"
In response, Mike thought for a moment before answering seriously,
"Green-skinned goblins may seem brainless, but they’re actually quite clever."
"If there are just five or six of them, they might only attack solitary ordinary people, like Henry’s mother."
"With ten or more, an ordinary caravan becomes their target."
"As for attacking a village..." Mike’s eyes flickered, his expression unclear in the night’s darkness. "That would probably require at least twenty or even thirty."
"You know how few people there are in the village."
"We two are here just as a precaution. If a large goblin community really attacks the village..."
Mike suddenly looked up, with eyes fixed intently on Tom in front of him, his voice dropping so low it was nearly inaudible.
"Take your wife and kids and run, don’t look back."
"They can’t take that many, and once they’re full and have caught enough, they’ll leave."
Upon hearing this, Tom was momentarily stunned, opening his mouth to say something.
Suddenly, a sharp, strange screech echoed from the nearby forest.
Sss-gaah—